Silly Haircuts

Silly Haircuts ©

By

Michael Casey

I just looked out the window 20 seconds ago and that’s how I picked today’s topic. Such disregard for my reader, but he’s probably in a supermax prison being punished by having to read all my stuff. I’m sure the Geneva Convention will be cited by his lawyer. Well as Taylor Swift sings to us I’ll try and talk over her singing.

I of course have had the same haircut all my life, short back and sides it is called. The only thing that has changed is the colour of my hair. Last night I stumbled over 3 old bus pass id photos, one of which expired 19 years ago, but the photo may have been even older. I had dark hair then, not the glorious silver hair I have now. Ok, the Santa Claus look without the beard. My daughter just said I looked weird in the photo, I can hear the chorus of agreement over Taylor Swift, and what was she doing in the woods anyway?

Haircuts are a statement, this is me, look at me, I’m so sexy. And that’s just the boys. The Mohican was fashionable in the 70s, in the Punk era, so when I see folks with one now it just looks too silly for words, its so Old Fashioned. I was there when it was new. Or maybe I am being Haircutist. You do need to know what suits your head, same as the clothes you chose to wear.

If you are fat you should not have very short hair, because it accentuates your fat face. I can hear you all laughing now, has Casey looked in a mirror lately. The reverse is true if you are small, a large amount of hair just makes you look like Dougal from the Magic Roundabout. Hair has to be in proportion to your face and your total body size. Though if you are Kim you are copying your grandad, in order to stay in power when Trump does finally build those Condos in North Korea. And as for the Donald, he has 3 wigs, one to wear, one in the wash, and one for spare. Though somebody today told me that  really it was a Tribble, as in Star Trek. I am right am I not?

Coloured hair, and I don’t mean the regular colours used, but blue hair, or bright orange, VW beetle orange is used to make a statement. I’m stupid being the most obvious statement. Am I being a little agent provocateur, or is that justy kinky underpants for women? Well half of you may be smiling while the rest of you will be spitting at the screen, which is a good thing as most people never clean their screens. I know I’ve been looking at screens for 40 years, when they were in black and white, we had an orange one and that was impressive before full colour arrived.

Geeks have silly haircuts too, as if to say I’m a geek, I’d rather sleep with a computer than a girl wearing agent provocateur. I even used to work with a guy and his initials were PC I’m not kidding you. If he reads this he’ll no doubt say I’m pants. He also has a scar on his arm from where he nearly bleed to death on a night shift accident, but that really is another story from 30 years ago.

Now some of you may think I’m just an insensitive fat slob, and I accept that. So for balance lets move to eyebrows. Of course mine are huge. The barber always offers to trim them but I go home and do it myself. The size of your eyebrows does effect the look that your face has with your perfect coloured Mohican. Or in my case when I was 4 I cut my eyebrows off with the scissors. So I looked really cute, and all my brothers and sisters just laughed.

When I was 13 we had a French test so as I paced the middle room learning French for Mr Notzing, possibly the best teacher ever, and as I paced I plucked. In the morning my sister drew eyebrows on with mascara, I went to school and pasted my French test. Nobody noticed. The next day, again with mascara my school chums, if I may use an old word, they all noticed. But as I was the biggest kid in the class nobody dared mock. I said a chemistry experiment had blown up in my face. Though I had actually been given a chemistry set by a guy from a house near the school. Remember this would be in the 1970s so all the cross gender stuff had not even been thought of, and we would have pissed ourselves if anybody tried to spout such nonsense.

So there you have it, as you lay chained to your bed in your supermax prison forced to hear me read my stories to you, with your body totally shaved by Dr Lector. Though Dr Lector could be what you call your girlfriend in her agent provocateur gear. Though in these days equality it could be you wearing her gear, or then again you’ve just fallen asleep in the barber’s chair again. It’s all in your imagination.

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